Frozen Tears
by The Phantom Dragon
Summary: When Loki fell he was sure things like hope, redemption, and belonging were beyond his reach. But you know what they say, there's always someone who's worse off than you. And just maybe, this time, those people have a bit more to them than meets the eye. Watch how three individuals life seemingly gave up hope on, bring each other back into balance. Crossover CA & C.N.'s Batman.
1. Prologue

_**So very sorry to all those who were kind enough to comment. I had half of the story plotted from the start; but something was missing to continue and I never had the challenge to complete it. So I thought it best to let it quietly retire gracefully…**_

_**BUT THEN 'CAPTAIN AMERICA: WINTER SOLDIER' CAME TO BE, AND NOW MY PLOT BUNNIES WON'T SHUT UP!**_

_**So thus, not all that sadly, the rebooted overhaul of this story begins. **_

_**It was originally a Thor/Batman crossover, but since there are so many more elements I have changed Thor for Avengers to sort of create a general blanket for all the characters. **_

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_**Jotunheim-**_

_The Allfather could not recall a time he'd ever felt more conflicted._

_The tiny bundle of wriggling limbs looked up and smiled. _

_The child was too young to understand what was happening. As one of Frost Giant blood, the frigid air should feel like the warming breezes of spring. It would not understand the ill twist of feelings that had left it out here to fend for itself._

_Odin could honestly say many would be right to accuse him of being harsh at times; often more militant soldier than diplomatic king. But none could ever deny the heart of a father beat strong and fierce in his breast. _

_Could it be? Laufey had abandoned his own child?_

_Or was it something more? _

_He really couldn't tell with his restricted command of the Jotunheim tongue. _

_All he knew from the priestess's vicious ranting before she was thankfully relieve of her head, was that Laufey was leaving his son here. Alone. To the elements. _

_True, the boy was of the same frozen blood as his parents. But there was no way, sacred offering to entreat victory or simply abandoning because of a lack of meeting personal standards, was he leaving this child here._

The general waiting outside looked on in surprise, but said nothing, as his king mounted the eight-legged horse in preparations to return to Asgard's royal palace. The bundle of no-longer-blue limbs cradled gently the king's arms.

_**Earth (Midgard) - **_

_Bruce clenched his fists and loosened them several times. A habit he'd picked up from his father for when something was worrying him. _

_The service was a quite one._

_After his parent's death he'd had no need of servants or helpers beyond Alfred's impeccable care and the once-a-month cleaning service. _

_With their ties to the dark city now gone, the Dawes had fulfilled their dream of moving their family to the south for their retirement. It was here that Rachael had spent the second half of her maturing years training in the guidelines and restraints of the law, even as she sought a way to remove those who, like him, existed in the shadows that haunted their city. _

_Except, he was a good shadow- he liked to think- that had tried to help her cause along the way._

_First to remove the dense fog that was the man he'd considered the answer to his own demons. Then again with the horror show that thought to bring its own brand of what had called humor to their bleak, miserable little city. _

_In the end it all amounted to the number eternally laughing in his head._

_Zero!_

_Indeed, he saved hundreds…no, thousands, of lives. _

_And his reward?_

_A cold pine box that contained absolutely nothing. _

_Because the same number applied to the amount that the cops he paid had been able to recover of the person they were all gathered to honor. _

_Zero. _

_A blank._

_Nothing._

_The only reason he'd been able to believe it had been Rachael was because of that madman's laughter that made your ears want to bleed. Echoing sinisterly in the Batman's ears, swirling darker his cape, as the Dark Knight hauled the ranting Harvey Dent from the place the DA's assistant should have been instead of the man himself._

_It had taken the authorities a bit longer to be satisfied with that answer. _

_DNA samples scrapped off of painstakingly collected cement blocks in a desperate attempt to find __**something**__ to confirm or deny their city's last visible defender was gone. _

_The days and weeks after had been a blur. _

_But finally, they could lay her to rest. _

_He did not deserve this._

_This right to stand besides those others she loved, who still stood in what they called the light, and bid farewell to the one woman who ever been able to see beyond the mask to the heart beneath. The right to say goodbye as a normal human being with…_

The feather-light touch to the back of his rough, callused hands stilled the raging demons in his mind.

"You're the one she always talked about." The small, youngish voice startled the man out of his brooding. "The knight who would defend the people of his kingdom when they needed him most. Even if he seemed to be a big, scary monster at times."

Pain lanced through his chest.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?!"

"You're him. The Dark Knight. She said you had something to do to make sure your people were safe; and that you would come back one day."

The innocence with which those words were spoken brought a choking lump to his throat and he fought the vicious urge to gag.

"Although," the bright words faltered, along with the shy smile that was sincere, but under-woven with fears and pain of loss, "she always was afraid she wouldn't be here to welcome you home."

"So that's why I'm here," the smile was more brilliant than the sun, piercing his dark, shadow shrouded heart like a dagger of pure… something he couldn't put to words. "To welcome you back.

"Even if it is to say goodbye."

During the course of their rather one-sided conversation the little girl had been steering him closer to the open hole in the ground.

Upon realizing this, he attempted to break the gentle-yet-firm hold the child had on his hand.

However, he found himself unable to not avoid approaching the pile of wood and floral bits that was to be Rachael Dawes final resting place.

Except he _knew_ this to be the most blatant lie in all his years.

Desperately, he tried to run. To escape the warmth and understanding that echoed the normalcy of the first and, he was sure, the last woman he would ever love.

Strong arms arrested his move to flee.

"It's Ok Son," The hands gripped his arms tighter, the closest he'd been to a hug in years.

Besides _her_.

"We know." How could they? "When our Rachael went back to see you, we knew in our hearts there was no way she was coming back until she had found a way to… bring you back"

The dark-haired man jerked back at that statement.

"Whatever the hell she meant by that."

So his…. OF COURSE! How could he ever distrust her?

She would never betray the faith he had in her. Just as she believed in the faith she had for him.

"Thank you." He wasn't sure if his words were decipherable under all the cotton layering his tongue and throat, but he hoped they got the idea.

"Though, there is one thing I think she always meant to tell you." The sharp glance was met by a slightly more awkward and just-plain-tired one. "Later, after everyone's gone I think."

_**Undisclosed location in Siberia- **_

_The Captain was still not sure what he was thinking at the time. He'd been dispatched to ascertain whether the American bastards had succeeded in capturing Herr Zola._

_He had been forced to return to report the devastating loss of one of Hydra's finest minds. _

_However, he had not returned empty-handed. _

_Although he still had no idea what had possessed him to bring back the half-dead body. He'd been ready to shoot the corpse upon discovery; if just to let out steam at the appalling situation he would no doubt be still receiving fallout for, even though his mission had been nowhere near that valley at the time of the assault. _

_But something had stopped him. _

_He wasn't sure what. The body had been missing the majority of its arm and surrounded by blood. Even without those two factors, anyone out in this eternal place of snow and ice would have frozen to death in mere hours just from lying there like that. It would have been a mercy to put the creature out of its misery._

_But something had held back the finger on the trigger of his gun._

_Perhaps it was just luck. He did not believe in miracles or a god to perform them. But now he was willing to believe in those democratic dogs' stories about an egg decorating rabbit or sprite who - for some reason- traded teeth for money. Because what he had found beneath that snow was worth far more than a cauldron of gold. _

_The subject had sustained heavy injuries from what must have been a fall during the kidnapping attempt. An attempt that succeeded, he reminded himself; but no matter. He did not care for some fat, pompous brainiac whose only concern was his textbooks and lab results. _

_What they had gained in the good doctor's place was something __**far**__ more valuable that would change the fate of the world exponentially._

_Hail Hydra!_

_**Asgard-**_

_The Grand Hall shone like a million suns. _

_He loved it more than words could describe. It meant another wonderful celebration to speak of glorious deeds done in valor in the name of justice. A time when the rights of the world were held to the light to be a beacon to all who had the strength and will to follow with pure minds and souls._

_He quirked a dark eyebrow as his contrastingly fair sibling whined with irritation. _

_The two could not be more dislike. _

_The one was thin, pale skinned, dark of hair, and solemn in the deep contemplations that oft wrangled his mind. _

_The other was light of hair and of skin, but the complex was slightly darker from hours spent in the sun training instead his body with the other warriors of their realm. His face was often set in the laughter ready to sing forth with the many companions that too sought the glory of their might and deeds waiting to be sung before many a hearth. _

_He never begrudged his brother's popularity; for it in turn afforded him the silence to seriously contemplate the things of the mind that a prince should also be required to gain affirmation in. He might never equal his sibling on the field of battle. But on the floor where the mind and tongue came to play… ah, that was a different matter entirely. _

_They were as opposite as sun and moon, summer and winter, light and dark. But still, though they did not realize it, the one could not exist without the other._

_**Earth: Gotham City-**_

_The manor was always dark. But she liked it that way. In a manner it almost provided a suitable match for the overcast skies of this city. _

_Although a stark contrast to the sunny home of her childhood, she'd loved it from the first moment she'd stepped through the doors into this life. _

_It was quiet too, her father preferring to isolate himself for the majority of his time. Alfred and her respected this decision out of reverence for the empty spot in all their hearts and lives that had been so painfully and abruptly evicted._

_It wasn't hard anyways. Even before coming to the newly restored Wane manor, she'd been quiet. Preferring instead to spend her time with the tributary home of books and all the wonders found in the pages of its inhabitants. _

_On a subconscious level, she wondered if, by chance, this helped ease the abrupt change from parentless child to parent. Her father seemed not one much for words, but he did respect knowledge. And the odd occasions that he ventured from the solitude of his room were spent mostly in the room filled with words not spoken but loud in the voice they were given. _

_Perhaps in that way they were not so unalike; both with their preference for solitude and the dark, where they were left to their own thoughts. The world could crow all it wanted. She hadn't needed a degree in psychiatry to know it was the glittery playboy that was the real mask presented to the masses. _

_The other mask… the other mask was one only two other living human beings on this planet knew about. Even though one of them wasn't supposed to. _

_That added another word to the list of adjectives to describe the two of them._

_Secrets._

_Something that really did run in the family. _

_A Dark Knight and a secret child. Both masks to hide from this world of fools and liars. They were a perfect match._

_**Unknown location at an unknown time-**_

_He never remembered his assignments, no matter how many his handlers seemed to be very conscious of the number he'd accomplished so far. _

_All he knew is he had a mission, a simple one really. Even if he couldn't consciously bring up any memories of them, he was sure on some level that he'd seen more complicated situations than this. _

_But it wasn't his place to ask questions. He was a soldier. He had his orders. That was all he needed, a place and purpose in life to keep moving forward. Was anything else really necessary?_

_Without another thought, he gazed down the sight attached to the top of his gun and gently squeezed the trigger. _

_**Asgard- **_

_Home was a beautiful place, so full of life and color; and also a number of quite spots if one was searching for them. _

_But it wasn't the appearance that was the problem. He'd learned so very long ago that sight was such an undependable thing. The surface was always the lie that one needed to penetrate to gain the truth beneath. With few exceptions._

_Like the loud oaf beside him now._

_No, most would have pointed to another, red-bearded individual of their group as being the lout of gluttony and ill manners. _

_Actually he found Volstagg to be an almost charming ruffian in comparison to the golden-haired fool loudly recounting the tale of their latest adventure and subsequent triumph. _

_A triumph, may he be allowed to point out, that would have ended in the bottom of an over-grown squid's belly had it not been for him and his quick thinking. Again._

_Not that he minded his brother being the one at the center of the wonder and glory. Personally, he preferred to stay out of the spotlight, he was never found of large amounts of attention for extended periods of time. _

_The problem was his stupid brother and those four idiotic friends. _

_Thor was perfectly happy to take the credit of the achievement to polish up his glowing image, always had since they were young. The three men who boisterously attached themselves to the hero aiding with the shining of said ego, since it meant they were more than welcome to bask in its glory. _

_Naturally though, this glow also cast shadows, which always inevitably made their way to one individual in particular. _

_He didn't mind the shadows, the same way he did not care for the light, mostly. But more and more recently, his brother had become bloated on that imagined image of glowing infallibility. Even now barely passing him mention in the tales, unless the only other option became outright lying; which his most __**noble**__ brother would never do to even save his own neck. _

_But those passing mentions had also fallen to shadow. Now it seemed almost his expected duty to keep this bumbling hothead he called a sibling, alive and relatively unscathed. _

_No more was he seen as a warrior in his own right. Rather, a shadow given being by hiding behind the light of the kingdom's golden promise. _

_It certainly didn't help that Sif, the last member of their entourage, was perfectly aware of the discrepancies in this picture. But, of course, given her own glowing perceivance of his brother, it was no contest who's side she would take- despite her common lack of respect when informing her leader of the stupidity of his plan while they were in the middle of executing it. _

_The younger brother rather suspected it had quite a lot to do with a female's dislike of one of the opposite sex having the same insightfulness as herself. _

_Feral females, fanatic fans- foppish fools the lot of them! _

_It was true he did not care for the fame or glory. But when that lack of care left a brand upon everything he had done to aid their darling, was it really worth it? _

_And if it bothered him so, who or what was he really fighting for?_

_**Gotham-**_

_It was getting harder to get him to speak. Heck, it was becoming a challenge just to get him beyond the walls of his comfort zone. _

_Over the years he'd grown more withdrawn, if that was even possible. Always staying in his room for weeks on end now, stewing in the ghosts that haunted him. _

_It wasn't that he was self destructive or any such negative things. Rather, he simply had no interest or desire to connect with the world beyond the confines of his rooms. _

_On the increasingly rare occasion she managed to convince him to join her outside for a bit, it almost always seemed to end abruptly with a sudden change in demeanor. He really did try to pay attention as much as possible. But it seemed like the ghosts would not leave him even under the blazing summer sun. Always dragging him back to the shadows where they could once more fill his mind with their dark thoughts. _

_She didn't need a degree in psychiatry to guess their origin. _

_He may no longer wear the suit, but that didn't mean it wasn't still in inescapable part of him. _

_She knew for a fact that a large portion of his time was being spent in the caves below, where his personal den was transforming into something that would no doubt make sci-fi writers lose control of their salivary glands should they ever catch the tiniest whiff of. If she didn't, she would have become genuinely worried. Because the excuse for still working on the fusion reactor that annoying slimeball kept coming around to try poking at would not have been near enough reason to convince even an ignorant her. _

_He needed space and time. He was still healing from wounds deeper than she had any prayer of being able to reach._

_Until then she would stubbornly cling to the hope that someday, by some bored-enough –to-care deity's sympathy, she'd finally be able to reach him._

_Then, maybe, he'd be able to allow himself a chance to heal and become the man he once was._

_Birthday candles are kind of a weak promise she was not sure from whence originated. _

_Yet they were exponentially better than no hope at all. _

_**Somewhere in a no longer known place- **_

_He was tired. He was beyond caring. He wondered if when he woke up he wouldn't remember any of this either. _

_He didn't have anything else._

_They said he was a great soldier. That was when he woke up. He had barely any memories, just muscle reflex. Occasionally there were snaps and flashes of things he thought might be his past. He was told it was a side effect of the treatments that made him who he was._

_An indestructible gift; placed in the hands of those deserving to use his powers to rule this earth and its feeble mess called humanity. _

_The times he remembered waking up were as being disoriented, with barely any cohesive thought at all. They would have to remind him of who he was and his purpose in this world. He had no reason to disbelieve them. The weapons they placed in his hands felt like old ghosts that he was incomplete without. The orders were the flat tune that wound him up to set him dancing on his way._

_He had no idea why he found that last allusion capable of bringing his lips into a tight line that threatened to rise at the corners; much less how he even knew what it meant and how to make it. _

_He was sure he remembered. He would, given time, his caretakers insisted. But all too often, the treatments left him feeling empty and hollow._

_They called him the Winter Soldier. Perhaps that was more than a witty acclamation._

_He felt nothing. He remembered nothing. He cared for nothing. He was frozen. The only thing keeping him moving one foot in front of the other was some unconscious drive that told him this is what he was._

_A soldier who took orders and did not ask questions._

_Just a little more and he would be done. Maybe he'd even be lucky enough not to remember this after he was done and could sleep again._

_Without another thought, he gazed down the sight attached to the top of his gun and gently squeezed the trigger. _

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><p><em><strong>No shooting please. There is a reason I keep Master-vampire-slaying monster hunters and an undead Lord of the Black as my henchmen.<strong>_

_**But I will give you a Bucky plushie strangling a CA bear if you leave some words of love in the box below. XD**_


	2. Chapter I: Behind Green Eeys

_**No one knows what it's like **_  
><em><strong>To be the bad man <strong>_  
><em><strong>To be the sad man <strong>_  
><em><strong>Behind blue eyes <strong>_

_**No one knows what it's like **_  
><em><strong>To be hated <strong>_  
><em><strong>To be fated <strong>_  
><em><strong>To telling only lies<strong>_

**Chapter I: Behind Green Eyes.**

It was cold, even for the son of the ruler of the frost giants.

Loki un-grit his teeth and snarled in the face of the cacophony of powers that raged and threw him about like straw in a gale storm that Thor had upon occasion created in his unleashed fury. Storms that his little brother was often the only force able or willing to counteract.

Loki cried and twisted in vain. He didn't care.

Heimdall, with his all-seeing eyes would have trouble tracking him in this tempest. Somehow that made the fathomless ache in his chest throb even deeper, more than he had ever thought possible.

All his life he had known he was different somehow. But his father, correction, _Odin_ had always banished such thoughts and then sent him for a pick-me-up with his brother.

Thor.

The name screamed itself through every iota of his being. He never meant for such a horrible fate to befall the one he loved almost more than life and all its lovely offerings. He truly had not wished it upon the man some hollow part deep down still called brother. He had only been trying to avoid a conflict he had seen as millennia old and unfruitful to the good of the realms. The Frost Giants were no different than the Asgardians. They wanted their world and lives in peace, with the occasional aspiration to expand their borders, it was only natural.

But this time, nature had been defied. Odin had taken the child of his mortal enemy and raised him as his son with his own offspring.

If only he had know before deciding on his course of action. He had planned for everything. The Frost Giants infiltration on the day of his brother's coronation, the veiled persuasion to not fight back, knowing Thor's nature would scream for justice and answers.

No misunderstanding. He _wanted_ his brother to ascend the throne. He had never truly desired it anyway, being more of a free spirit, given to wandering about and causing lighthearted mischief where the opportunity for joyful merriment presented itself. But his firebrand of a sibling had needed a light lesson in political tact.

Thor was a warrior given to the fickle moods of the battlefield. He did not truly understand the ways of peace or life in a continuous flow; choosing rather to live in the heat of the moment, never seeing the aftermath of his actions or even caring.

He had simply hoped to buy more time by piercing his father's golden view of his elder brother. To show him what had lacked to be included in the king-too-be lessons Odin had set for Thor. Thor needed to learn to care for those whose futures depended on the new monarch's decisions.

But the thunder god was acquainted with so little of mundane life workings, that Loki had immediately acknowledged what kind of catastrophe would ensue.

Thor would have run the realms like he did his Warrior's Three. Letting all free reign to do as they please and dealing with the fallout _after_ the dust settled. Loki wouldn't have minded much, since for the most part Thor would no doubt have asked his advice as the younger was the one who actually studied up on such things. But recently Thor had become more and more unpredictable in his temperament, and more predictable in his actions.

If he was angered, something easily accomplished if one knew which buttons to push- and there were many, he hesitated not to unleash his almighty fury upon such unsuspecting victims whether they were aware of their actions or not.

He missed the old Thor, who had once upon a time allowed himself to be dragged into the library or to his father's footstool for new discoveries of such morsels of wisdom detrimental to the peace and stability of the Nine Realms. Now his brother was a warmongering hothead who struck with unholy terror first and asked questions later, regardless the consequences.

The physical pain was nothing he couldn't deal with; he had had worse on the expeditions' Thor was wont to drag him off on. It was the pain burning a hole where his heart had once been known to reside, that hurt the most.

Never had he known such pure, terrible agony. It felt as if his very being were torn out and fed to wild beasts; the core of his soul melting in the heat of the flames of Muspell, to be replaced with another thought colder than any winter icicle of Jotunheim.

The Rainbow Bridge was gone.

There was no way to return. Even for vengeance against his stupid, bumbling brother for ruining his so well constructed plans.

Even if the Bifrost were still intact he had no need to be told what awaited him if he attempted return.

Banishment.

Abhorration.

He could never go back.

The thoughts he had been trying to avoid putting to words now rose to plague his mind.

It did not matter if he survived this storm. It sure as Hell didn't matter where he ended up.

He had nowhere to go. Nowhere he belonged.

He had severed all ties to either place he might have once had the opportunity to call home.

Now he had nothing.

Tears finally welled as the shadows filled his mind like grasping demons. Tears that had remained so well hidden behind a mask of coolly restrained mischief. He hadn't cried in so many years.

They never saw any of the pain at the unintentional rejections. The small changes slowly forming as years of being left in the shadows gradually built a wall of cold indifference around his heart, hidden by a mask only maintained in the hope of those few remaining shreds of what had once seemed unbreakable bonds.

They never saw the truth behind his eyes. Sparkling green simmering with amusement at his pranks; which, truthfully, were merely created to offer distractions, in an attempt for a small reprieve from the gnawing pain in his chest. Except ever trick, every joke, instead served to drive that cold nail of loss deeper into his now frozen heart.

It was all a hoax. A beautiful picture created from the paint of lies, by an artist named Deceit.

Now? Family?

No father, he had killed one and distressed the other into a emotion induced coma. No mother, Thor had seen to that. …And no brother.

The last part was too much for the emotionally stressed and unbalanced god to endure in his weakened condition.

The last thing that managed to maintain a grip on his now drifting mind was the mantra he had been repeating for the last few weeks so that they had become almost second nature.

_I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. If there were any way to go back and retrace everything I did, I would die a thousand deaths and walk through each Hell for the chance do it differently._

_But it's too late for us now,_ he thought miserably, _isn't it…brother…_

A single tear finally found its release as lids closed over eyes of now dulled green. Eyes finally allowed to show the truth of the pain of a heart rendered beyond repair.

* * *

><p><strong>Comments please. *holds up a Loki chibi with cat ears and big kitty eyes*<strong>

**The song intro is Behind Blue Eyes by Limp Bizkit.**


	3. Chapter II: Sadness and Sorrow

**Chapter II: Sadness and Sorrow.**

"She searches for you." Thor smiled.

Jane had done more than merely rescue him in that desert. She had saved _him_. And in doing so unwittingly saved Asgard and an entire race when she, in her simple way, taught him what his father been trying to for so many years.

He would not rest until he completed his promise and returned to her. He was the son of Odin, and thus duty bound to fulfill his oaths. Though this was one he was more than anticipating. Heimdall said Loki mentioned something about paths between the realms being the method employed to sneak the Jotuns into the weapons vault.

Loki!

Oh Jörmungandr! "And my brother? Can you see him? Does he still live?" The questions spilled over each other as desperation gripped his heart.

His father had decided to keep the truth from the general public. The official story being that the Frost Giants had found some as-of-yet unknown means to enter Asgard. In the following tussle the Bifrost was sealed open and Loki had fallen when his brother destroyed the bridge. Since there was no way of knowing if the second prince still lived or perished in the rampant energies of the no longer contained Bifrost, it was still under royal investigation.

Besides the Warriors Three, Sif, and the Gatekeeper, none outside the royal family knew the actual details of Loki's betrayal.

At the time, Thor would have questioned whether his father's decision to cover up the truth had simply been an attempt to wash over the fact that it was _he_ who brought the son of Laufey into the royal household; thus instigating the chain of events leading to this tragedy.

Frigg had sensed as much and was quick to allay her remaining son's fears. Odin was never one to show such emotions in public. But, she assured Thor, in the privacy of his room, behind closed doors, he did indeed grieve the young man whom he still called son even now.

It was the dim memory of that terrible moment, when, through his own cry of agony, he heard a soft '_no_' escape his father's lips as they watched their youngest slip away, that allowed him to believe there was still hope for his family as a whole.

The last week had been a blur of commotion as reparations for the Jotunheim catastrophe were considered and explanations to reassure other kingdoms deliberated over. How Odin planned to have these messages delivered was not something he really wanted to have to think about more than strictly necessary. He'd had no time to grieve properly, nor even try to see if any small hope remained of reuniting with the brother he still loved.

Standing beside the long-seeing Gatekeeper, his heart felt as if it bore the weight of Mjolnir, slowly being crushed with every beat that it sounded without answer by another that had pulsed in tune as one for so many centuries. Now it sang alone, a mournful refrain of abandoned loneliness in a void as endless as the cosmos its soulmate had vanished into.

"Please Heimdall. Is there anything? Even the smallest grain of hope for him?" The ancient Gatekeeper looked sadly at the anguished young man beside him. He too missed the little Trickster who had so often wrapped him around his little finger with silvery words, as he persuaded the man once more to assist their travels on yet another of his older brother's unsanctioned quests.

If only he'd followed his gut that last time and stood his ground to refuse them passage, instead of allowing his own pride to require an understanding of how the giants had passed…

He sighed, "I have spent these days of mourning my lost duty in ever increasing endeavors to cast my eyes upon our lost prince. But Yggdrasil reveals nothing to me.

"If Loki still lives he is shielded from mine sight." Thor did not miss the way Heimdall left the last part hanging or the small sigh that escaped the other man's lips. It was all the acknowledgement the hardened warrior would concede to his inner musings.

Thanking Heimdall, he turned back up the Rainbow Bridge. He understood the man's desire for solitude. Amongst the Asgardians sorrow was generally a private thing. The kingdom had publicly mourned its prince. But as befitted the heir to the throne, Thor remained dry-eyed and stiff lipped throughout the formalities.

Unable to stand the thought of returning to the simple dinner party his mother had insisted on to celebrate his home coming, for he had little stomach these days, he strode swiftly in the direction that had once been second nature when he was upset. The familiar halls blurred into a single golden stream that swept him to the once calm harbor for his soul.

As children it had served as a nursery, then playroom as the centuries passed, until it was finally converted to laboratory and classroom of magic for his little brother when they outgrew its original design. The sizable atrium, attached to its own enclosed private garden, which now held a lifetime of memories.

Thor could remember afternoons where he finally escaped his tutors to seek the company of his little brother, only to be roped into observing or being the guinea pig of Loki's latest spell or potion, given the condition it had no lasting effects. His brother's way with words and those soft, adorable eyes always somehow slipping past his defenses to maneuver him into some embarrassing, yet generally humorous, situation. Thankfully, Loki never used something he didn't see as amusing, or Thor was quite sure he would be having an extra head or two when the prospect took Loki's fancy. And Loki always was a fan of fixing people's problems whether they wanted it or not.

There had been one survivor of the Jotun's attack force who lasted long enough to spill all he had heard in the throne room of Laufey, before succumbing to his injuries. Loki had seen what their father had been blinded to in his devotion of raising the perfect heir.

Surprising at it may seem Thor was actually once again indebted to his little brother's meddling. If not for that suicidal gamble, he would never have been banished and met Jane. If only for that, Thor was grateful to his younger sibling.

It was what followed in the wake of that fiasco that set off a whole new chain of reactions. Leading to where they were now.

Thor wavered in front of the great doors, before sighing out a breath to boost his courage and pushed ahead. The sound of the doubled doors was a knife in the stillness of the room. Silence was his only greeting as he hesitated on the threshold. He stood several seconds that seemed an eternity, before placing one foot in the hollow sanctuary.

The place was eerily tidy to the habitually catastrophic thunder user. A good spell caster always knew where his tools were to be found at a second's notice- another analogy from Loki's infinitesimal store of wisdom.

With the original occupant now gone, Thor would have been free to ruckus about as he was wont to every time his brother had admonished him for disturbing his studies. Somehow it all seemed wrong without Loki; the absence gouging fresh wounds in the slowly expanding hollow threatening to burst his chest.

The emptiness was unnatural. Never in his life had these rooms been unoccupied. Even when injuries or illness forced Loki's absence there was always someone here. Either his mother wandering aimlessly, occasionally picking up an item to study as if envisioning her son's slim, deft fingers delicately handling the tools, or Amora fidgeting with something of her own in an attempt to keep busy.

Thor couldn't help a small chuckle as he remembered the time he walked in on his little brother about to kiss the entrancing sorceress. Loki, about the equivalent of a fifteen-year-old human at the time (not that Thor himself had been much older), had had a puppy crush on his instructor for most of the twenty-odd years he had been apprenticing under her.

Thor wondered briefly if anything had come of it later.

_No!_ He thought bitterly. That had been the time he dragged Loki off in search of the Sword of Surtus. Their first real quest together ended in utter disaster. They returned to find Thor's accidental slaying of two Jotun sentries had sparked an all out war with the Frost Giants and much more.

Algrim the Dark Elf, his father's most trusted adviser, had taken Elderstal and attacked Odin directly. He claimed it was revenge for Odin's betrayal of the Elves in their war against the Giants. To this day Thor still wasn't sure what to think.

What he did know was that things were never quite the same after that.

_He_ had finally earned his father's recognition and blessing to quest beyond the kingdom.

And Loki?

Suns and stars! Why had he never seen it before? That was when things started to slide for them.

It started the second Loki picked up that thrice accursed sword to avenge their fallen father. The look in his tear filled emerald eyes then now haunted Thor.

The boy had been terrified that he might have lost his father in the fight, and reacted on pure instinctual anger and fear.

Thor remembered his own fear as he was forced to remove the damned fire blade from his brother's trembling hands before any more damage could be done.

He was able to comfort Loki only briefly before the urgency of the situation forced him to abandon his little brother in his greatest hour of need. He successfully stopped the war and returned peace.

But at what price?

With Odin out of action, Thor had been required to step in beside his mother to settle the aftermath. It was several weeks until he found the time to speak to Loki properly.

He came across him here. Playing with a water spell he recently mastered.

The cool response to his inquiries and blunt attitude should have been a tip off at the time. But once again he had been too dense to notice what was sitting right in front of him. Rather, he had accepted his brother's claim to be alright and took it for granted that things were back to normal.

It never was.

Loki, of course, went back to being his smiling, annoying self after a few more weeks, and Thor was only too willing to believe him.

He had never been more wrong in his life.

His brother had taken a life, how did one simply recover from that?

Instead of paying attention like he should have, Thor had rather used his newly gained freedoms to take more and more risks. Using every available second he wasn't pinned to his class chair to dig up some new quest to parade off to. Dragging Loki along whether he wanted to or not; most often not.

His little brother had always been the thinker, the brain of their group so to speak. Yet Thor never entirely understood or appreciated it until now. Almost always, it seemed, he, Thor, would lead them all into some unknown peril half-drawn. While it was Loki who eternally seemed to have the backup plan or insight to save them from whatever uncalculated evil befell them on those quests.

Nevertheless, despite it all, they never managed to fully value his contributions. Sif constantly calling him weak or an underhanded trickster; Fandral said he was just too soft for battle; Volstagg an underdeveloped pup. At least Hogun had _tried_ to be decently respectful to the younger man's personal skill set. But even the warrior of few words would often enough join in the ridicule with the others by means of shooting pointed looks when he thought Loki had in some way fallen short.

And himself? The elder brother who should have looked out for and defended the younger? He laughed it all off and teased Loki for being overly sensitive to the other's jibs. Thor always took it for granted that Loki would put up with it the way he tolerated his older sibling's ribbing.

He never saw the flashes of hurt briefly flickering in those once expressive eyes before they fell behind a mask of good-natured jesting. Even when Thor had once or twice been fast enough to catch sight of such glimmers of emotion, he always dismissed them and assumed Loki was just as quick to get over it. Until now, he never comprehended the depth to which even a small misplaced line could go.

And those lines hadn't just been the rare occasion when the others got annoyed with Loki's know-it-all observations. It was almost non-stop any time he fell behind the other more physically astute combatants.

Come to think of it, people had, for the most part, only seen the Warriors Three, Sif, and himself as actual members of their group.

Loki was simply an annoying tag-along that was one of the conditions for their liberties. The Trickster people began to call him. One who saved them upon occasion through his devious schemes in poor hope of receiving the smallest scrap of acknowledgment for his contributions.

No true warrior of Asgard fought by misleading his enemies to an unsuspecting end, they whispered. And he, Thor, never contested them.

"Brothers protect each other no matter the cost," that was what Odin had drilled in to his sons for centuries. But the years proved more than a match for his father's teachings. Slowly, his equally hot-blooded friends replaced the one true companion he ever had. Praises of his foolhardy quests filled his ears until he no longer perceived the reality in that small plaintiff voice pleading for him to hear even the barest whisper of its cry.

Until nothing remained but a cold, hard mask built to contain the pain of repeated rejection and arrogant dismissal. A soul that could no longer feel, except for that tiniest vestige of hope still pulsing weakly below those insurmountable layers of ice built to protect that inconceivably fragile heart.

And he had shattered it with just another casual swing of his calloused behavior.

_I could have done it father. For __**you**__. For __**all**__ of us._ The words held more to them than Thor could comprehend at the moment. His long forgotten brain clawed at him to understand what they were trying to say. But the grief of conceived betrayal had been too great.

But _now_, all he could understand was those _eyes_.

Eyes that shone with tears of the pain of yet another letdown of his desperate attempts at acceptance. At recognition of what was never to be his not matter the heights or, in this case, the depths to which he pushed himself to obtain that small token that would let him know he was loved, that he was important.

That he _mattered._

It had all been in vain.

His reward was disappointment and grief.

How anyone could last this long with… whatever it was Loki had been forced to endure all these centuries, was beyond the thunder user's comprehension.

Loneliness, rejection, disregard, how someone lived with such isolation and didn't go insane was beyond comprehension.

By the Norns, the closest Thor had ever gotten to being looked down on was when, during his air-headed teenager phase, Sif had been spitting the truth at him about how his father was being forced to order the warriors he fought weekly to purposely loose to him to keep the royal name from being dragged in the arena sands.

But while she had had good reason to reprimand him for his arrogance, what had Loki done to have his heart trampled by unfounded, biased criticisms?

Thor grouched about that one point for weeks. Thus instigating a less than brilliant plot to prove her wrong.

Loki suffered centuries of ostracism. Yet never once had he made the slightest peep about his true feelings.

Why did he never come to his older brother for help with these pains?

Oh right! He had.

_Numerous_ times. All veiled in that way that was Loki, and which Thor _should_ have been able to pick up on in a heartbeat.

_Another point for my stupid, selfish ways. _At this rate Thor was surprised Loki hadn't outright contested their father's decision of successor.

No wait, that was because Loki loved his brother too much to shame him by publicly opposing Odin's choice of heir.

There was more….

_I never wanted the throne! I only wanted to be __your__** equal**__!_

What had he meant by that?

_He wanted to be me?_ The stuck up, stupid bastard that brought nothing but grief and shame to his father and the kingdom with his egotistic ways?

It was beyond Thor's reasoning.

All he knew was Loki had been hurt to the point he was speaking with full, straight honesty. No coatings, no multi layered truth. Just stone cold facts.

"Please brother." The whispered appeal drifted on the hushed breeze dancing through the empty space as the speaker sank to his knees where he stood. "Please! Show me what it is you need.

"Tell me where I went wrong. Show me the truth I have been so blind to all this time.

"Give a sign, anything! Strike me dead or appear in a pompous cloud of smoke to tell me this is all a dream and you are still here and believe in me.

"Wake me to say this is a nightmare I have only imagined, and you are still beside me… to watch over my back… no matter what ills I have forced your gentle soul to endure all these years."

The petitions faded as sobs slowly choked the voice imploring them. "If your pain is so you cannot voice it…" Thor could now barely manage the words, "please… just… tell me you are alive. And… that it is not... too late... to make amends."

Tears no longer containable, the supplicant of these heartfelt entreaties sank to his knees. Unknowingly in the selfsame spot as the predecessor who had shed so many tears in similar pain, but for an entirely different reason.

"What do I have to do to right my sins?" Pride and dignity were beyond reach as the mightiest warrior in all the Nine Realms finally gave full vent to the ache deep within his soul that had been weeping these many long days.

"Please… just tell me… how… how do I… save you?"

* * *

><p><strong>*stares half-asleep at computer screen* Well, now I remember why I write <strong>_**so**_** much better after 4 in the morning. Loki always finds a way to play on my emotions after that time. Personally I think he started my insomnia in preparation to do his bidding*sighs in resignation*. **

**Lucky he's soooo adorable *bearhugs the Trickster she kidnapped before he could fall into the Bifrost* I can't say 'NO', so please review so I know my lack of sleep will not be in vain. **

**Cheerio! **

**Oh and yes, in case those of you who have watched 'Tales of Asgard' are wondering, I have decided to adopt it in as well.**


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